


Golden Sun

by leafyxthiefy



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, F/M, Human Trafficking, Minor Character Death, Side Story, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:44:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7957468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafyxthiefy/pseuds/leafyxthiefy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in a time where vampires and humans are in the midst of a centuries old war, a young Izo looses everything, her mother, her home, her humanity. But one day, a foreigner arrives to teach her that there is more to the world than despair and hate. Set within Red Moon Universe, TransIzo, Vampire AU, Thatch x Izo [rating and warnings changed due to graphic nature of later chapters]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeafyxEmy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafyxEmy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Red Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703183) by [emygrl99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emygrl99/pseuds/emygrl99), [LeafyxEmy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafyxEmy/pseuds/LeafyxEmy), [leafyxthiefy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafyxthiefy/pseuds/leafyxthiefy). 



> This passage is the prologue of a side story that resides within the same Universe as the Fic I worked on with Emygrl99 for the '16OPBB. [You can find the fic on our joint account, LeafyxEmy here on Ao3]
> 
> You don't really need to read Red Moon in order to understand this particular fic, but the choice is up to you. The timeline is much earlier than that in RM, since it revolves around Izo's past and her relationship with Thatch.
> 
> Warnings: Abuse both physically and mentally, neglect and slavery
> 
> And a quick note. Izo is a Male to Female Transgender, I realize that cannonly he is Male and many of you expect him to be so, but in this AU Izo is a she.

_Smack._

The five year old's vision swam dizzyingly while simultaneously warping her surroundings with the unshed tears that filmed her honey gold eyes. Her ebony dark tresses were a mangled curtain that did nothing to shield her as she remained frozen where she knelt, her head had been snapped harshly to the side by the vicious slap she had just received. She had no presence of mind to think on the action though, for all of her thoughts were focused on the searing pain that throbbed across her face.

It hurt. Her face _hurt._ But that sensation paled in comparison to the feeling of… what was the feeling that was burning within her exactly? Her young mind struggled to place a name on the emotion that was overwhelming her. It was dark and awful and, mother had never made her feel those emotions. Even when mother left them, she had felt sadness and had felt loss so profound she could not understand. But she was not feeling either of those now. What she had felt in that moment in time, she would learn to call it shame, humiliation, and rejection.

"And now you're crying? You better shut the fuck up you stupid useless brat?" the voice above her boomed, and she had to flinch from the unrestrained animosity behind it.

"How many times must I tell you that _men_ don't cry." the man demanded as he glared at the crumpled child before him.

"B-but I am not a–" whatever the child was about to say was cut off by another blow. This time, however, instead of a slap across the face she was dealt a harsh unrelenting kick to her side.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, _boy._ " the man growled. "Your mother may have tolerated your idiotic nonsense, but I will not stand for it, do I make myself clear?"

The bad feeling grew and inflated until she let out a strangled sob. The second the choked sound was expelled from her throat was the exact moment that the tears that had obscured her vision were released. She shut her eyes tightly in a vain attempt to stop them, but the tears were not easily stopped as they continued to stream down her face onto the floor underneath her. She tried to keep the sobs in, she did her best to keep quiet, and overall she tried to give the man the nod that he was waiting for.

But she could not do so, she could not appease the one demand he wanted from her. Instead, she cried.

She was only a child after all, she had no control over her emotions. But the man above her did, and he chose to project disgust, anger, and hatred for the child he had brought into the world they lived in.

He had been given a child he could not understand, or rather, _refused_ to understand. The death of her mother marked the changing tide in her life. For without the protection of the one person who loved her, she was left to defend herself from the man who looked down upon her as nothing more than an inconvenience he no longer wanted to deal with.

Young Izo was no match for a father that could not grasp what he could not see. When he insisted that she was a male, as her physical body claimed, she had to correct him and tell him that she was not a male, but rather a female.

What was the difference between a boy and a girl anyway? Why did her father care so much about what gender she was? Why did she _have_ to be a boy when she knew in her heart that she was not? Her mother had known too, and had encouraged Izo when Izo asked for more feminine clothing, and when her father disapproved, she had placated him.

And then her health declined after a sudden animal attack. Shortly after, the wound became infected and with no funds to pay for proper care, her mother passed from the world of the living.

Thus Izo remained with the man that had lost all of his love for her. Izo was left with the man who sold her the moment her mother's coffin was lowered into the earth and banished from her world.

If Izo wished to be a female, then she could do it anywhere but under his roof.

Right after the short service in memory of her mother, Izo was thrust into the arms of a woman she had never met before, this woman who wore too much face paint and smelled of intoxicating scents that overpowered her senses. That was the last time Izo ever saw her father, right before she was taken to her new home where she would spend the next eleven years of her life.


	2. The Foreigner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely Psychotriton

“Did I tell you to stop playing?” a voice commanded and Izo startled, jumping slightly on her perch. “Our guests are due any moment now, and you are not to stop, for anything.”

Instead of offering up an apology, however, she immediately did as he was told. _They_ didn’t like apologies, not from her or anyone who wasn’t like them.

Upon her arrival she had been specifically told that she was there to be seen, not heard unless it was through a harp. That had been five years ago, and since then she had not spoken, not uttered a single word to those that gave her a home, clothed, and fed her.

In return for keeping her alive, she was to live by what she had been taught in the house she had been bought from. She was to always–under every circumstance–look presentable and play her harp when she was told to do so. It was truly a small price to pay if she was honest with herself. It was not a life she would ever wish on anyone else, not even the man that had cursed her to it–but when compared to what she _could_ face, she could hardly complain.

Izo had no intentions to die that night, or any time soon by the people who held her life in their hands. Thus, with that thought in mind; her fingers began to dance rhythmically across the strings, hitting every note just right and causing the tall instrument to sing its enchanting song.

The creature that spoke said nothing else and walked away, leaving Izo to her playing. And that was how it went on most days. If Izo stopped before she was told to stop, she was either scolded–that was when they were in a good mood, or if they were in a particularly nasty mood, then that was when the blows would come.

The strikes never came to her face, no she had to be presentable and as such her face was off limits, as was her neck. The rest of her, there were no restrictions. 

Both of her wrists were mostly always bandaged and sealed away until one of them became hungry. And when those _things_ became hungry, that was when Izo feared them the most. When they were hungry, there were no warnings, her hands were simply pulled off of the harp and the bandages were ripped away, and then one of two things happened. Either fanged teeth chewed on her skin, or a knife sliced horizontally and let the crimson river flow. 

Her thighs too were in a similar state, as were her sides and torso. New scars mixed in with the old ones she received during her time in the previous house where lashes were the preferred form of punishment.

In this castle her back was only struck when they thought she was belittling them by walking away when she had not been dismissed. Such occasions had mostly happened upon her first few days at the castle, and since then Izo had been safe... for the most part.

Hours passed by, and the visitors began to file into the ballroom, all of them of _their_ kind, and the few humans that were about were either a means of sating hunger or servants tending to their masters.

These gatherings often went as such, beasts and lambs all dancing to the melodious song of her harp.

“That’s a nice song you’re playing there, does it have a name?” a voice asked to her left and Izo fought the urge to flinch in her seat. Instead she shifted her honey eyes to the shadow of the person. If the accent in the tone wasn’t enough to convince her that he was not part of the castle, then his attire was. The shoes the other wore were none that she recognized, thus he could not be one of the house. And they were much too expensive and high class for anyone who did not belong to _their_ kin.

Izo shook her head and continued to play, never once looking away from the strings and their hypnotizing melody.

“That’s a shame, such a beautiful song should also be given a name, don’t you think?” the man asked softly, continuing to hover around her space. 

Izo could only shake her head once again. The foreigner, continued to talk though, his words falling down to her, calling for her attention, but couldn’t he see that she _couldn’t_ hand it over?

“You know the song you're playing reminds me of a time that I went up north, have you ever been up north?”

When Izo didn't respond, the strange man continued to speak. “Well, there’s this city up there, it’s actually quite small some few hundred people live there, and every quarter of every year they have this festival to bring in the seasons. So they have one for Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn. I hung around there for two years and I was lucky enough to witness all of them not once but twice!” the man stated, and Izo could see his shadow as he extended his hand, displaying his two fingers rather proudly.

A pause followed his words, and Izo had a nagging feeling that he was waiting on a sort of verbal cue from her to allow him to continue talking. But she did nothing except bring her gaze back to the strings of her harp as she continued to play her instrument.

“Spring was my favorite one, I mean sure the other seasons were quite spectacular, Summer with all of the spicey menus and the bright reds and oranges decorating every inch of the streets; Winter with the whites and blues and warm desserts; Autumn was a mixture of the two but with entirely different colors more muted calmer and yet still so lively. But Spring.” The man let out a wistful sigh.

“I’m afraid I’m going to miss it this year since I’m running this errand for Oyaji.” He gave a small good natured chuckle. “Ah not that I mind, I like doing things for the old man, and it isn’t like the town is going anywhere anytime soon. But it really is a sight to see if you ever get a chance. Just imagine it.” he said his voice getting lower and Izo could not tear her attention away from that voice no matter how much she tried.

“The city is lined with every blooming flower you can think of: morning glories, roses tainted with the rainbow, flowers that put the sun to shame, lilies, daisies, lavender, pansies, hibiscus’, name any flower and I assure you they have somehow attained one and placed it on display. And the music, it’s like nothing you’ve ever heard, it might as well have been music from the angels the way every dainty string is pulled and strummed, every delicate flute is played, and then someone joins in with one of those…” the man trails off as he ponders the name of the other instrument, “you know, the one with all of the colorful piano looking things that you tap on with the drumsticks*, and someone _somewhere_ has a triangle, because someone always has a triangle.” the man laughs and Izo can’t help but let a small smile turn the corner of her painted lips.

It had been brief at first, the beginnings of a daydream, when he had started to speak of the other seasons. For in her mind she could see the things he described albeit in a way that people remembered a hazy thought. But the more the man spoke the more clear the images came to her, and those wonderful visions became more and more tantalizing. Izo could see every flower he spoke of, she could see every instrument he tried to name and she could _hear_ the sounds he described as if they were being born in that very room she was in.

And when he spoke about the food that was served at these events, her mouth watered with the phantom scents, while her mind provided the enticing images of glazed sweets, the roasted feasts and the games that the villages played for the event. Her main focus however, were the flowers that flooded the streets. Izo’s beginning smile widened more and more the more she was allowed to see this wonderful sight of the many flora, she even saw some she knew not the names to. And how she longed to know the names of those flowers. What she would give to spend a day there?

Her own wistful sigh was exhaled before she could stop it and her fingers froze.

Izo could _feel_ eyes on her, just as clearly as she could hear the approaching footsteps as if they were made of thunder instead of muffled claps against the marble floor. By stopping in her playing, she had made her presence known, she had turned their eyes on her. Izo had broken one of the rules that she was never meant to break and that was to never under any circumstances divert the attention of their guests in her direction.

For to steal their attention, then she was essentially stating that she was much more important than the residents of the castle. And while they had allowed the man who was near her to speak and hover about her person, the pause in her music was not something they would tolerate.

The heavy steps of the castle’s head butler came ever closer and Izo’s fear escalated along with the closed proximity between her and the man. She knew what was coming, so she braced for it, her muscles tensed underneath the deceptively thin attire she wore.

Closer and closer they came, and though she knew better, Izo wanted to bolt. The punishment for running was worse, yet she could not supress the need. Fighting was not instilled in her person, and against these beasts, she was a mere fly. Thus, flight was a much more appealing option, even for a few more seconds of not feeling pain. But Izo didn’t dare and move, she doubted she could even if she wanted to, for fear froze her where she sat.

No sooner had the other paused when the whistle sliced through the air and a sharp sting blossomed at her side. The wooden rod used to correct her mistake was harsh on her covered skin, able to make bruises even through the two layers that stood between it and her person.

“The Master had made himself abundantly clear that you were not to pause for _any_ reason tonight.” the man hissed and though her eyes were closed against the pain she was to endure, Izo knew another blow was coming.

She did not need her eyes to see the outcome, for she had been forced to play the very same scene one too many times, and had of course been a witness to it as well when others of the household failed to follow their instructions.

What she had never seen, nor would ever be able to foresee, was the event that occurred next. The rod whistled its cry as it neared her, but instead of connecting with Izo’s burning side, it found another target.

The sound of the rod hitting flesh resounded around the room, though that in no way compared to the collective gasp that was given from the patrons of the event.

“Now that isn’t very nice.” A sweet voice spoke above her. “A man should never hit a lady, under any circumstances. Well unless she stole your undergarments, then I suppose she could be entitled to a light tap to the wrist and a very stern talking to. But abuse my good man?” The foreigner’s voice lowered to the end of his speech.

“That I shall not forgive.” He nearly growled, and Izo had to work hard not to flinch under the two men, the sweet voice that had given her so many beautiful images was angered, and for some unexplainable reason, she did not want to hear anger in that voice.

“Step away from her, she is done for the night, understand?”

“But Sire…” the Butler attempted, his words falling off into silence.

And it was then that Izo dared to slit her eyes open, just minimally so. The shadows were still interacting to her side, the wooden baton held between the two, though the foreigner was standing much taller than the head butler.

“Offer _him_ my apologies, but the harpist has come down with an illness and she is to get her rest.” he said smoothly, no longer carrying the same light tone as before, but a more refined and commanding presence that brought the last piece of the puzzle to Izo’s mind.

“Of course Sire, I will…” the manservant gulped. “I will inform the Count.”

“You do that.” the man said and Izo saw him release the wooden rod, letting the man go.

Then the unexpected happened, a hand was laid on her shoulder and Izo jumped on her perch. Her golden eyes widened and fixated on the floor underneath her but she followed the procedure as she was taught. With numb fingers Izo undid the knots on her bandages and let the thin cloth glide down to the floor, revealing her arm and offering it to the foreigner. A moment went without either of them moving, but then his hand released her shoulder and in the most gentlest of touches he held her arm. 

However, he did not do either of the things he was _supposed_ to do. He did not latch his fangs onto her wrist, nor did he produce a knife to slice open the healing skin. Instead his finger ran along the length of her arm and Izo had to physically refrain from shuddering under him, or worse, pulling away.

His eyes were no doubt tracing the interlacing scars and healing puncture wounds. Even without looking at her wrists, she knew what he was looking at, what _she_ was forced to look at every night when she tended to her marks. Her skin was a map of pinks, whites, yellows, and pale blues from the oldest of wounds to the newest and it seemed that such a used arm was not to his liking.

Izo’s head ducked as she held her breath. If she could not play the harp, and if she couldn’t give them the drink they desired from her, then what good was she? What reason did they have now to keep her in the castle? Her usefulness was quickly declining and such a fate promised only one thing.

Death. 

Was this how it was to end? A short life with nothing but a battered body and soul to show for it?

A gentle hand moved away from her arm and swiped at her painted face, and again Izo fliched. But still she dared not remove her eyes from the floor. The floor before her that distorted with the film of building tears, that was what the man had cleaned her face of, tears.

And she was certain that that small tear would be the one to seal her fate. She had broken three rules in a mere span of ten seconds. She had stopped playing and caused a commotion, she was unable to sate the appetite of the one above her, and crying was _strictly_ forbidden.

The blow she was expecting never came, much to her growing surprise. Instead, her arm was released and an arm slipped under her and the world underneath her fell to nothingness as she was hoisted into his arms and was led out of the room.

Izo’s heart raced in her chest, though unlike the beating organ, her mind refused to work. Izo’s mind was quiet and numb. Everything she had come to know, everything that had been _ingrained_ in her mind was being tossed at her face and by the appearance of a stranger.

The Count would have never stood for such insolence, he would have never allowed her to not receive her punishment, and he most certainly wouldn’t have _refused_ to feed from her. Izo had outrun her usefulness, she was worthless.

_You’re nothing more than trash. Scum that should have never been born. You’re just another freak that’s here to poison the world._

The harsh memory slapped Izo out of her thoughts and she swallowed thickly. It seemed that _he_ had been right all along. It was only a matter of time until things caught up to her and she was cleansed from existence.

“Hey now, it’s okay. You can forget them now.” a soft voice spoke and Izo was surprised once more by the change in tone.

A door closed and Izo realized then that she was not in any familiar part of the castle, she was not in the servants wing, the rug underneath was too lush, too expensive. Even the smell of the place screamed of a better life than what she knew. She was in the Count’s wing and that _terrified_ her. 

Izo’s breath hitched and before she knew it she had bolted from the man’s arms and scrambled to the door. There was no plan in her mind, nothing more than needing to escape and go. She just needed to get as far away from them as she could and then... what?

Her bruised fingers paused against the wooden door and she lowered her head pressing it against the sturdy wood. What was the point of running away, she was trapped in the castle and the area around it was foreign to her. Her fate was sealed whether she stayed or attempted to run, and the latter only promised to be worse than the former.

Defeat slumped her shoulders and Izo waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The instrument Thatch refers to as a piano with the drum sticks is a Xylophone*


	3. Apology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I own nothing and Share the AU with Emygrl99.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful PsychoTriton. Enjoy!~

A minute passed. And pretty soon that minute turned into three, five, twelve. It was madness. It was a Hell she was forced to endure, hunched against the door simply _waiting_ until the sentence came. But it never arrived and Izo was unsure of what exactly to make about that.

Slowly, Izo turned her head to the side, half expecting to see the pair of shoes there, but they weren't beside or next to her. They were instead discarded to the side of the room and their owner was nowhere within her line of sight. Hesitantly, Izo righted her head and turned her body to face the rest of the room only to pull back and press herself fully against the door once more.

She had not expected the man to be right before her, sitting cross-legged a mere two feet away from her with a smile on his face.

Izo's eyes only got as far as his smile before they fell once more to the floor, avoiding eye contact as she was trained to do. Eye contact was one of the many things she was never to do, she was inferior to _them_. Izo was nothing more than a means to entertainment, a tool and walking sustenance, she was insignificant in everything else, she was not a person in their eyes, and for that, she could never look them in the eyes. Not that she wanted to... she had made that mistake but once upon her arrival in the castle, and it was not an experience she wanted to relive. The eyes of the Count had been a thing of nightmares, swallowed in black and veined, swelled with hunger and vacant in its regard for life.

Izo counted her breaths, regulated her pulse, and clenched her shaking palms in the folds of her skirts, returning to her game of anxiously waiting for _something_ to happen. It was not the first time she had been taken into a room, torn away from the harp on a whim. And it certainly was not the first time she was forced to wait out the inevitable.

Izo had fallen for the act the first time, she had been locked with one of the monsters, sat down and left alone for a few minutes before she was taught that there was no reprieve from her reality. After that night, she had never dared to hope things would change.

And while it was true that this man had spared her from the wrath of the head butler, Izo was beginning to wish he hadn't. The strikes of the wooden rod were a much more welcome routine than that which happened in _their_ chambers. At least when she was beatens he knew what she would receive, bruises and a cracked or broken rib. When she was whisked away, there was no telling what terrors she would face. Some only craved her blood. Others entertainment that ranged from carnal pleasures to more creative methods that included torture until they either bored of her company or she lost so much blood she was robbed of consciousness.

"Are you alright, my dear?" the man asked and Izo's hands closed tighter around the fabric in her lap. The tone of the stranger was odd, new and unknown to her. Was this his game? To be pleasant before he had his way with her?

Izo didn't know. Instead she remained where she was, honey gold eyes trained on the space between them.

Izo knew that words spent on her were nothing more than a false promise. How many times had she been a victim of naive stupidity, where a seemingly kind gesture would earn her a worse hand? Too many to count.

A few seconds later proved that her continued silence was enough of an answer for the other man. "I see. Well if you're wondering what's gonna happen next you don't have to. I do have half a mind to look over your cuts and bruises, but I won't do that without your okay... are you hungry?"

When she didn't answer, the man sighed. "Tell you what I'll just whip us up something real quick, I wasn't allowed a room with a kitchen so I'm afraid we'll have to deal with tea and sweets. I was saving these caramelized treats for Fossa, but I'm sure he will understand." the man continued to talk as he stood and moved around, pulling items from everywhere in the room.

Soon enough the man was back, and between them he had placed a mat where a tiny burner was set up and a small kettle was being prepared.

Izo watched as the man brought and nurtured a small flame to life and that was where her focus settled next, on the small dancing tear of fire.

There were other things going on around that fire after it was lit as well, the steady hands added water to the kettle and then the dried leaves to the mixture for them to boil. Then he began to produce small samples of the sweets he had spoken of.

"Ah, that's right I even got Marco's pineapple strawberry cake around here somewhere," he said with a snap of his fingers that he immediately apologized for when Izo jumped yet again.

"Sorry, sorry it's a bad habit I know. I didn't mean anything by it okay… It's not a command or anything or, honestly it's just a tick I do whenever I remember something I hadn't a second ago. So, ahh." the man trailed off and sighed.

"You know this would all go over easier if you spoke… You can speak right, they didn't... " his voice sounded hurt and sullen, "they didn't take your tongue, did they?" Izo could hear the unmistakable tone of barely restrained anger underneath.

Izo immediately shook her head in response falling to the conclusion that this man would be upset otherwise-he wouldnt be the first not last to ask her to use her tongue after all.

Instead of the cruel laugh she expected though, Izo received a relieved sigh much to her growing confusion.

"That's good news at least." he offered, his tone rising in spirits from a few moments ago.

The two lapsed into silence once again, and as before, he was the one to break it.

An exaggerated gasp was given as she felt more than saw him lean forward, eagerly so, from his seated position. "And where in the pot are my manners? I'm sorry in between being captivated by your song and telling you my tales of the north I completely forgot to introduce myself. I'm usually not this dense no matter what that bird brain might tell you." the man advised. And Izo could practically feel the smile blossom on his face. "My names Thatch Newgate, would I be overstepping my boundaries by asking yours?"

Thatch Newgate.

The name engraved itself into the back of her mind and Izo found herself… confused. Why was he so readily handing over his name own name to her, a clear insignificant slave? Since when did _they_ care about her knowing their name? And more importantly why on earth did he care what she was called?

The silence ticked away between them and the man sighed, jerking Izo's attention over to him, but instead of finding a scowl on his lips, the man was smiling sadly.

"What was I thinking," The man–Thatch–chided himself and let out a soft sigh, "Of course I would be, just look at you, you're probably scared out of your mind right now."

Izo didn't object to that, and he continued, "I want to let you know that I don't want to harm you, but why would you believe me right?" he mused resting back from his earlier posture. "The way that you shy away and flinch to most every movement suggests that you are no stranger to this."

Izo didn't need to be told was exactly _this_ was referring to, she knew without a doubt that he was talking about her imprisonment and to an extent about her existence, but again, she neither denied nor confirmed his words.

What exactly was his game? Izo's brain scrambled to figure out some sort of explanation to this behavior. Since her arrival she had been familiarized with anger, disappointment, discipline and everything in between. But never since the days of her youth had Izo recalled this feeling of what exactly?

Such times and feelings had been lost and corroded to the hands of time. Smiles have never been genuine here, intentions never good and absolutely nothing was done for her benefit, Izo was replaceable a mere slave amongst millions. And yet… why was she saddened by these thoughts she knew with every fiber of her being to be as true as could be?

Izo wanted to leave, she wanted to head back to her quarters or even the main ballroom and play her harp in order to gain forgiveness from the Count. But she was also sure that if she attempted either option, then the man before her would strike her where she was and her fate would be sealed.

"I understand that I have nothing else to offer you but my word..." Thatch interrupted her thoughts once more. "But I hope that you believe I have no intentions to hurt you in any way, I just wanted to… apologize."

' _For what?'_ the thought came immediately to Izo's mind though she dared not voice it, along with the rest of the turmoil in her mind.

Thatch opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get the chance to do so when the pot came to its boiling point and announced that the tea was ready.

The whistling seemed to snap something in Izo and she moved automatically, skilled hands took a hold of the wooden handle on the kettle and she filled the two cups, ever mindful that his was to be filled first and her second to a much lesser degree.

"Come now, you're my guest." The man said with a pout and sighed softly. "I'm the one that is supposed to be treating you, now please set that down and have a caramel cake, or would you prefer the strawberry pineapple one?" He asked nudging one of the pastries her way after successfully taking the kettle from her hands and setting it aside, out of her reach.

"I have a brother." he began after a moment, producing yet another pastry from the bag at his side. "He absolutely loves these things, strawberry pineapple cakes, but no one back where I'm from knows how to make them. So I figured, since I am all the way out here I could get him one, but as a bonus, because I _am_ the best brother in the world; I also learned how to make them so please don't worry. He will have his treat weather we take this one apart or not." Thatch reassured her and offered over a slice of the beautiful cake.

Izo didn't move though, she remained seated before him and at war with herself. It took her a long while to recognize the foreign feelings that she was experiencing through the anticipation and dread.

It was a small flicker of hope that she had long ago thought she would never be capable of harboring amongst these monsters. But here she was. Possibly in the worst situation of her life with no escape, and still she found that a small tiny, minuscule part of her wanted to clutch at this feeling and never let it go.

She wanted very much to _believe_ in the man's kindness, to believe that he was in fact there for a different reason other than terrorize her, but she _couldn't._ Izo could not believe that someone could be kind to her.

A frown brought his smile down, but Izo didn't dare look at his eyes to confirm if it was due to sadness and anger.

"It's that bad, isn't it." he whispered and Izo, of course, said nothing.

"How long have you been here?" he asked softly.

Silence was his answer.

"I see." Thatch noted under his breath in a way that she found unreadable but before she could take further time to get a hold of the situation, the man moved. Thatch took a stand so fast she barely saw it. A moment later he was before her again, a bowl set between them amongst other things she didn't take too long to identify; the pastries and tea forgotten in the background.

Izo froze in her spot, eyes trained waveringly on the tea as the endless possibilities of what was about to happen raced through her mind. Yes she _knew_ what the purpose of the tools by his side were, but still she could not shake the dread.

No one in the world was kind without a purpose, why would this man, this _vampire_ be any different?

In between her thoughts and growing anxiety, Izo had not taken notice that she had closed her eyes instinctively, her body preparing itself to receive whatever was to come her way, but none what she imagined happened.

Where she was expecting some sort of backlash to not accepting his offered treats and tea, she was met instead by a warm wet cloth on her cheek. Izo, surprisingly, didn't flinch that time; too taken aback by the gesture to do anything but remain still.

Thatch worked silently, gently removing the layered rice powder off of her face, and Izo dared not open her eyes. Afraid of what she might see if she did. Why was he removing the one mask that she had? The mask that the Count _required_ her to wear? Who was this man and why was he breaking every rule that she knew to be true? Why was he defying every part of her existence? Why was he–

Izo's whirlwind of thoughts came to an abrupt stop as his voice came to her again, low and alluring as it had been in the ballroom. "I meant what I said before, I'm not going to hurt you, I am not like them… and I meant it when I said I wanted to apologize. I can't even begin to imagine what the castle has been like since your arrival." he whispered and Izo closed her eyes tighter. She shut her eyes against the unwanted images of her time there as they surged and fought to bubble to the surface of her mind.

But the stranger didn't allow that to happen because what he said next shattered every little thing that Izo believed to be true. "You can leave here if you want, would you like that?"

Honey gold eyes met his for the first time, she found herself staring into two twin pools of warm forest green.

* * *

Izo lay huddled in the cot she called a bed, unsure of just how she had returned to the small space that equated to her room. Her face was liberated from the many layers of makeup she wore, and her torso as well as arms and fingers were bandaged up.

She had no idea how much time had lapsed between her meeting with the foreign stranger and to her awakening, but Izo had no time to ponder that. She rose from her bed, wincing when she was greeted with the pain from the blow she had received in the ballroom, but she had no time to indulge in her dilemma.

Izo had to figure out what time it was and her duties for that particular hour. But first she had to make herself look presentable, she had to place on her mask for her masters to see.

' _Would you like that?'_ the words were like something out of a daydream, something that simply couldn't be real, and yet why did she yearn for them to become reality.

Izo's trembling hand stilled on her jaw as a phantom caress trailed down her painted cheek. The mirror before her reflected back her sorrow, and revealed that the caress was nothing more than a tear rolling down her face. Izo was crying for the second time in a matter of hours and she could not stop the tears from coming, ruining the strokes of paint she had applied.

Angry swipes tried to stop the tears, but they continued to flow with no end in sight and that alone made Izo even more distressed. Years upon years of servitude, anger, sadness, loathing, blatant torture, degradation and humiliation rushed at her and all she could do was let out a choked sob.

She couldn't answer the voice in her head, she was afraid to answer, terrified to even consider the possibility that there _could_ be kindness in the world.

Izo remained as she was, releasing her emotions until she was left empty again, she cried until she convinced herself that it was nothing more than a cruel lie made up by the beautiful foreigner. A horrible trick that Thatch was playing on her to make her slip up, and with that in mind she cleaned her face of its impurities and placed her mask on once again.

* * *

"And is that the only reason you have returned?" The Count asked with disdain marring his features as he looked down upon the young man before him.

Thatch in turn lifted his hands appeasingly, "That is the main reason, to tell you the truth, I never thought I would have set foot in this castle again, and yet here we are."

The count laughed, a laugh that brought nothing more than unpleasant memories to Thatch's mind, but he said nothing, letting the older vampire get the sentiment off of his chest. "Aye, here we are, with you suggesting words of peace and moving in on _my_ territory like you own the place, boy. Tell Newgate that he can take his proposal and shove it up his fucking ass. We have been in this war for longer than you have been alive, and it will continue long into the centuries after your death until the moment vampires reign supreme and humans admit they are nothing more than trash underneath our feet. What makes him think that we will ever return to the days of the old, eh? Does he think he can change the outcome of this war by _demanding_ me to surrender the slaves that I have _bought_?"

"Humans are hunting us exactly for this reason, to _prove_ to us that we are not their superiors, and that they have every right to live as we do. How many of your untrained men have you lost in the last ten years alone? Fifty or perhaps it's higher than that, seventy-three if Marco's research is up to date. We can not hope to see the next few centuries this way, not when the rate of blood born vampires is steadily declining. The world has come to the realization that we can not return to the year of peace between human and vampire, but by subjecting them to slavery and dehumanizing them, there will be no good outcome for us. Surely you realize that humans outnumber vampires at the very least 20 to one if not more, and turning them does not actually guarantee their loyalties, if anything that only causes more problems." Thatch argued taking a step forward in the direction of the Count.

The older vampire merely scoffed, "That filth has always outnumbered us, the problem arose when they decided to get cocky. If we back down now we will be letting them believe that they have some hold over us, give them a false sense of power that they truly do not have. Humans are like children you see, the more lenient you are with them, the higher your chances you have of raising ungrateful disappointments."

Thatch's eyes darkened minutely, before he regained his easy smile and shrugged, "Well if you want to put it that way and use parent-child analogies, then shouldn't we as the 'superior' race take on the role as parents and lead by example?"

"My answer is no, boy. My property is mine alone to do as I please, and I do suggest you keep in mind that I will not let another of tonight's transgressions slide again. Out of a welcoming gesture I allowed that little harlot to be taken from it's playing, by all means enjoy the human as you see fit, but remember who it belongs to, and do not forget your place here boy, what little of it you have left."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this was where the plot began to thicken, seriously this was supposed to be a little 7 to 10k add on to Izo's past, but whoops my hands fucked the keyboard all over and welp.
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts? Or predictions, what do you think will happen next? Hope to hear from more of you!
> 
> Till next time!~


	4. Cry over Spilled Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, welcome back!
> 
> First things first, the rating has been changed from T to M because the story did not get lighter. There are major triggers I must address before you continue, there's strong mentions of violence, torture, and non-con it's not explicit but it is implied and made pretty clear that it happened.
> 
> So don't be surprised when you run into that. As always I own nothing and hope you enjoy!~

The foreigner–Thatch–continued his stay at the castle, and Izo avoided him as best as she could. He still spoke to her, and she remained ever silent playing her harp or attended to her duties as she was expected to do. But never again were they enclosed in the same room alone, and for that she was equal parts thankful and crestfallen about.

Izo enjoyed the wonderful stories that he had to share with her and the other slaves. Izo did not trust him, but a part of her was always warmed by the fact that he was different from all the other vampires she served.

Never once did Thatch bite her or any of the other servants that scurried around the castle, instead–rumor had it–he scavenged blood or fed from the local wildlife. Which was a highly improbable concept to Izo. She had, after all, always been told that the main food source for a vampire was human blood. Yes, they ate cooked food and drank water, tea, wines and the likes; but that never stood to the sound logic that they _needed_ human blood in order to function.

And then there was the most bizarre rumor around. The servants whispered amongst themselves that Thatch was actually a noble. He had of course claimed to be a Newgate when he had introduced himself to Izo, but the slaves _heard_ and saw things while they scurried in the shadows. For one, the man didn't rely on the slaves for anything, and when they tried to help Thatch; the man had the gall to insist that the servants not lift a finger for him. He _denied_ them, laughing as he did his own bed, or set up his own food. The behavior puzzled the slaves as they shadowed the foreigner, whispering of his oddness, and his off-putting ways. For what sort of noble didn't command things of the slaves?

Perhaps it was due to his standing with the Newgate household. That was the most popular explanation amongst the slaves. Edward Newgate was the name of a noble whose legend had spread far and wide. Rumor also had it that Newgate–unlike the rest of his kind–didn't despise humans and he most certainly didn't keep any humans for the sake of entertainment, food, or pets.

Up until meeting Thatch, Izo had thought the mere idea of such a man existing was nothing more than a hopeless myth spread amongst the humans in order to help them sleep at night. But the arrival of this foreigner spoke of one of two things.

Edward Newgate was indeed real and there was a small fraction of hope that he would help in their liberation, or the most likely to Izo–who refused to believe there was anything to hope for–he was there using a fake name. He was using the name in order to achieve some sort of secret agenda, such as getting the luxurious treatment he was receiving, and was therefore playing pretend.

After all, what sort of noble entered the kitchens and actually _prepared_ food?

Izo was skeptical and she remained as such as time went on. The other slaves took to him quickly enough, but she always shied away from him, and when she was able, she even took alternate routes to her destinations when she knew that their paths would meet. Unfortunately, such evasion tactics could only work for so long.

It wasn't until three months into his stay when another incident occurred.

Izo was tending to her duties as she always did, carrying the same ornate tray she had come to be highly acquainted with when delivering tea to the Count. Every single cup and dish on the tray was painstakingly cleaned to the point that they shined and reflected every miniscule detail they came to contact with it. The tea in the pot was boiled to perfection and the residue leaves were trapped at the bottom with no conceivable way of escaping when she poured the liquid. And the tea itself, was of course flavored with her blood, as the Count had demanded long ago.

Izo knocked thrice as she was expected and when given permission to enter, she did.

Izo managed two steps into the room before her eyes met a familiar pair of shoes at the entrance, placed neatly beside those of the Count. Her stride faltered for a second, but she immediately regained her posture and padded over to where the two men sat, face to face.

Izo placed the tray between them and bowed lowly, maintaining the pose until she was allowed to straighten. Izo then kneeled and began setting up the cups in their respected saucers and it was then that she began to pour the tea.

In the middle of her pouring the foreigners cup, however, a cold hand clamped upon hers and the tea spilled over the immaculately hand-carved table and trailed away from her, trickling onto the white cloth of the foreigners trousers.

Izo quickly righted the teapot but it was painstakingly clear that the damage had been done. Her heart stopped and she froze, eyes blown wide with sudden fear as dawning realization of her mistake seemed to crash down onto her shoulders.

"You incompetent little whore." the words were spoken with a menacingly low tone and Izo did not need them to be stressed out to know that there was fury within the spoken words. The threat behind them was palpable and nearly tangible within the room.

Izo also didn't need to see the hand that rose, she didn't need to be told that she would be reprimanded. She just _knew._

The blow never came, however, or rather it never made it to its target because by the furious clap of contact, she knew it must have hit something; or rather _someone_. Izo didn't dare to peek over to the hand that was to put her back in her place so she glanced at the shadows they cast upon the table.

One hand was outstretched, poised to deliver the punishment, that was of course the one thing she had expected to see. The unseen factor, however, was the other arm that was casting a second shadow, holding the wrist at bay.

Izo's gaze was fixated on the scene playing out in the shadows, she was enraptured by the sight of the melding appendages. Never before had someone outright defied the Count. No one had ever _dared_ to question him, much less get in his way. And here was this stranger-a man that she had spent less than a day with in the past three months-standing against the Count. Thatch was outright challenging him and for what? Certainly it wasn't for Izo?

"What are you doing, _boy_." the words were slow, demanding and brought a cold chill to the back of Izo's neck along with unpleasant memories from years long past.

Izo tried to push back the images that rushed to the forefront of her mind, but she was unable to reign them in. The memories pushed and shoved until they flooded her vision, filling her mind's eye with hardened glares and disapproving frowns. Hateful words rang in her ears and Izo was five again, facing the wrath of the man who had been called father.

Oblivious to her inner turmoil, however, the two men continued their standoff.

"I am doing what I think someone should have done long ago, isn't it bad enough that you are keeping these people against their will and forcing them to worship your every step? Why add violence into the mix?" Thatch's voice was smooth, but it gave nothing away to whether or not he was fazed by the older man before him. And even in her tormented state, Izo could sense that there was more to the voice, something warm and new that she had never had the pleasure to encounter again after her mother's passing.

"They have no will, their entire purpose in life is to serve _us_ , we _allow_ their continued existence for this exact purpose. They are nothing more than cattle, a source of food. Tell me boy, do you stop to consider the feelings of the deer or elk you hunt? The bear whose neck you tear when you feed from it?" the man boomed and Izo flinched back into reality, snapping her head up for a fraction of a second before lowering it once more.

That small action was enough for their attention to be brought back to her though, as the cold eyes of the Count were on her once more. "And _you_ , you know what you must do, I expect you to be prepared by the time I get there."

Izo's stomach plummeted, but she gave a solemn nod and escaped the room. She fled before she could hear any more of the conversation between the foreigner and the Count, knowing very well that if she did not do as her master had commanded, then her previous action would no longer be so easily dismissed.

* * *

Hours later, Izo was still in her room, her simple yet elegant-for a slave-attire discarded in favor of a single article of clothing. The only thing she wore was a pair of tattered and blood stained burlap trousers.

And though the rough cloth offered some sort of twisted comfort, Izo could still not shake the horrid sensation of feeling terribly exposed. She loathed the feeling of being bare, not because of the scars and healing bruises that marred her skin, but because it was simply another reminder.

Izo loathed her own body when she was unclothed. She despised the feeling of being nude and letting anyone who saw her in such a state define her gender based entirely upon what they saw.

With clothes she was safe, with her clothing she could guide any man, woman, or child in the right direction.

Izo's head was lowered, tucked into the safety of her arms as she pressed herself against the unforgiving cold of the stone wall before her. Her knees burned with the protest of having to bear her weight upon the rough floor, and though she would much rather endure that unpleasant pain for the rest of the night; Izo knew that she would not be relieved of her punishment so easily.

Another hour crawled by, and the cramps that had taken a vise grip on the muscles of her thighs and arms remained very much there and demanded her undivided attention. The ravaging hunger was also present and just as insistent; the hunger twisted her stomach until it gnawed upon itself as time went on.

Izo stopped counting after the fourth hour, uncertainty bringing forth a feeling she had long ago abandoned. Doubt lead the way for a small glimmer of rising hope that her punishment was no longer on the foremind of her tormenter. That somehow _someway_ the Count had been swayed from his decision of punishing her. Was it Thatch's doing? Or was it a new form of torture, where she was to wait anxiously for the inevitable before the reveal came and her punishment was simply postponed.

Izo didn't know.

And as such she remained, stuck in a state of cautious hope and coiling dread. Still, she didn't move from the spot she was in, her forehead was still pressed to the stone wall as were her knees to the floor, cold sweat dripping onto the ground below her.

Izo didn't know when she fell asleep against the wall.

One moment she was hidden away from the terrors of her life, and the next she was wrenched back into the nightmare that was reality. Her mouth opened into a silent cry as tears brimmed in her eyes while fire licked across her bare back where the unforgiving metal bit at her skin.

"I see you have deemed me worthy of your attention now." The voice rose from behind Izo, and along with the voice came the chilling sound of clinking metal.

"Getting pretty cocky aren't we, you filthy beast. You escape punishment one time due to the erratic whim of a guest and now you deem yourself exempt of the rules?" the Count growled and again the pain flared across her back.

' _No!'_ The word echoed in Izo's head as she answered the man in her mind.

That was an unnecessary thought though. Even if she had answered vocally, the denial would have gone unheard and dismissed. "Did you think that because you caught the fancy of that pathetic excuse of a vampire that you are better than the trash you are?"

The metal beads rang through the air again as the _Qilinbian_ struck again and again, the lashes becoming harder with every flick of his wrist. The fall of the lash whistled through the air singing its song of pain and torment as the Count continued to rage.

But Izo was no longer listening to his words, they became nothing more than cruel noises that acted as a backup tune to the harmony of the chained _Qilinbian_ and it's awful symphony. Each steel bead dug deeper into Izo's tender flesh, and after a few lashes, blood was spilling.

Izo never spoke, but that did not mean that she never cried out.

She did.

When the pain became too much for her to bear, Izo screamed and whimpered as she convulsed with the pain elicited by her master. Those sounds were accepted, _encouraged_ even. Words were for people, not beasts. Noises on the other hand were meant for her kind, and more often than not those noises of pain were rewarded with a shorter punishment, so Izo never held back.

She had nothing to lose at that point. Whatever shred of pride and dignity she might have had at some point in her life was snuffed out long ago. There were instances in her life, when Izo wondered why she continued to live out her wretched existence when it was painfully clear that the world cared nothing about her. She mulled over the thought of just _stopping_ , letting go and releasing herself of the world around her, but she never went through with anything and it always came down to two things. Her irrational will to survive, and pure cowardness. Izo knew she could never take her own life, she wasn't capable of it.

So she bore what life threw at her, every insult, slap, kick, bite, blade, whip, and violation to her person. She endured it all.

Her punishment was endless, the _Qilinbian_ was discarded when the Count took measures into his own hands and took Izo's body for his own. Blood never ceased to arouse these monsters, they became primal and almost insatiable.

Unable to endure any more, Izo released herself to the sweet embrace of unconsciousness and let go of the world around her.

* * *

When Izo came back to she was surprisingly numb. She was not assaulted with the pain and aches that usually followed the Count's sessions. Instead she felt at ease and light, as if nothing at all had happened. And the cold stone wall that had scraped against her face was no longer there, had she been moved? Izo took a moment to take in her surroundings as best as she could. The first thing she noticed was that she was not slumped against a wall, or on her back instead she was on her stomach, which relieved the pain in her back, and she was somewhere _warm_.

Izo distantly wondered if she had been placed back in her cot after the ordeal, but no the soft surface she was on was not her cot, and it certainly wasn't the dirty old pile of straws in the medical ward.

Izo meant to shoot up from the bed she found herself in, but the action was cut short by the searing pain in her back. Izo made a choked sound in the back of her throat as she fell back into the lush surface and all of that night's memories and pain came flooding to the front of her mind.

"Oi, hey watch it." a hushed voice called out and laid a hand gingerly on her shoulder. "You're safe here, he's gone for the time being…"

Izo shut her eyes as tears obscured her vision and threatened to spill from behind her lids. The pain had returned to her with newfound vengeance, every stroke the _Qilinbian_ had painted on her skin was on fire while the rest of her throbbed with aches and forming bruises. The softness of the bed she found herself in did nothing to lessen the hurt, in fact it only scared Izo more.

Izo wrenched herself away from the gentle hand that was on her person, she tried again to get up and do _something_. Terror filled her actions as she scrambled blindly away from Thatch and his approaching arms. Izo could feel her wounds opening as she struggled out of his grip on her arm and when she fell off of the bed tangled in the sheets, she could smell it.

_Blood._

She had opened her wounds again, and they were once again weeping freely into the bandages and the covers she was caught in. Izo's heart plummeted as she stilled and waited for the inevitable.

Whatever she thought was coming though, never came as she was gently lifted from the floor cover and all.

"Please don't be afraid." he whispered above Izo, and though she desperately wanted to believe his words were genuine and his heart was in the right place, she _couldn't._

Izo struggled again, all of her strength and cries went into a last futile attempt to free herself, and unsurprisingly, Thatch was able to keep his hold on her. When her hands and feet stilled again, Thatch moved again and set her on the bed once more. Izo was left to catch her breath through the body shuddering sobs as she coiled in on herself and released her grief.

Thatch said nothing after that, and after some coaxing he was able to clean and redress her wounds again. Izo calmed down after several hours and when she finally got the slightest bit of courage to look up, she saw remorseful and apologetic eyes looking back at her.

Izo quickly looked away and not for the first time was she left confused by Thatch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to tell you guys that the sun will come out soon, but really things are always gonna get darker before it gets lighter.
> 
> Ah and in case you were wondering, a Qilinbian is a sort of whip with metal or glass woven into the whip itself.
> 
> Let me know what you think yeah? Donate to the 'Give Fic Writer's hope' foundation with a review?
> 
> Till next time!~


	5. Letters Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thatch discusses his experience with Marco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys!~
> 
> Didn't I tell you I'd be back? Now only if it didn't take me century to return u.u; Anywho! Not much warnings for this chapter, just homesickness.
> 
> But without further Adieu! Enjoy!~

_Thatch,_

_I do hope this letter finds you well in your current residence as I know how uneasy you must be by now. Oyaji, too, is beginning to have reservations about his assignment. He was convinced that by sending you, it would ease the mounting stress between our coven and that of the Count's but it appears that Oyaji is starting to second guess his decision._

_This isn't to say that he does not have faith in your ability to complete your task, but simply that perhaps it was too soon for you to be there._

_Nonetheless, we have faith in you. If you need backup let us know and we will send someone to help you as soon as we can._

_I imagine you're rolling your eyes at our worry right about now. So I will not push the matter any further. Oyaji sends his love, as we all do. Your presence at the castle is very…noticeable. It's much less loud as you can imagine. But not as much as you would think, Blenheim recently returned to the castle after completing his latest travel. And while he was out he befriended an Oxen._

_Can you believe that? He just strode into the castle with that creature in tow. And of course Fossa thought he was dinner and started chasing after the poor thing until Blenheim had to step in and reassure the animal that he wouldn't be turned into a meal. Oyaji was amuses as you might have guessed, while the staff was none too pleased at having to clean up the mess afterwards. So to appease them and as a way of apology I had to give them extra pay to get things back in order._

_The kitchen staff also misses you you know, they claim their dishes aren't as great without you about the kitchen. And I have to say, I miss your cooking as well. No one brews coffee like you. But I'm afraid that's the only praise I'm willing to give in this letter lest your head, or should I say hair, get bigger than it already is._

_With loving affection,_

_Marco Newgate_

* * *

_Hey Marco,_

_You do realize you don't have to be so formal in your letters right? We're buds, brothers even and here you are sending me this cordial shit like I'm the freaking Count. And that last note at the end, are you getting sentimental over me? I am so touched! I'm laughing by the way. Just like I did when I read the whole Ox encounter what's the name Blenheim gave him?_

_And yes! I did roll my eyes plenty of times, you and Oyaji don't have to worry about me, I'm fine for the most part. And really I wasn't planning on staying this long either, a month or two max and we're bordering on what now, three months?_

_(I sighed here)_

_Things certainly aren't easy. I have to admit it's tough here and I would rather be anywhere else than being confined to this castle and the Count; but...dare I think that fate had an ulterior motive to my being here?_

_Vamps here are warped Marc. The Count has it in his head that we as Vampires have to domineer over the humans and has begun collecting them as pets. He had servants before and I admit slaves here and there, but they weren't treated this badly before. The things that transpire in this castle are horrifying. We had thought Donquixote was bad in his weird fascination of capturing humans and making them act out his perverted fantasies, but that pales in comparison to this. Humans here are worth less than animals Marco, anything and everything they do is monitored and if they take a single step out of line they're beaten within an inch of their life. There seem to be different tiers to this madness as well. I have yet to see what gets done to those they dispose but I promise you it is not something I wish to find out. And…_

_I'm sorry I had to set the quill down, it's not easy writing this down especially with how infuriated it makes me. It's nothing short of hell for them Marco and no matter what I tell the stubborn old Count he just won't listen to reason. He doesn't see the humans outside as a threat, He believes that the castle walls will hold against an attack from them. And I tried to explain that the humans had clever ways to their methods, bombs, catapults you know the works… There is no getting across to him and I feel guilty Marc. This is my fault, all of this that is happening to the humans...to._

_The humans are losing hope on having a better life. It's heartbreaking to see Marco. And I can't raise a single hand to help not without challenging the Count. But I want to help them. And that's the reason I'm still here. I'm going to find a way Marco, I promised someone here I would find a way._

_How I wish I had your Inclination* right now, the ability to clearly analyze a situation and find the best possible solution. But instead I have this storytelling gift that can do nothing at all for them._

_Some insight would be highly appreciated, and I miss you guys too._

_With love and a great hairdo,_

_Thatch Newgate_

* * *

_Thatch,_

_Your letter was received with a heavy heart. Oyaji is furious as you can imagine he wants to storm down there and challenge the Count. But as luck would have it, hunters are raiding a nearby village where Vista previously resided. We have sent our soldiers and have engaged in battle once again._

_I'm sorry that you have to face this on your own, but please know that you are not alone in this situation. What those people are being subjected to is not a life meant for any conscious being. Also do not beat yourself up over this, what could you have done? If anything traveling has opened up your mind to see how wrong this is._

_Oyaji is very proud of you, as we all are. You are doing the right thing even if that was not your objection. We would have liked to offer the Count an ally with our Coven but if he refuses to change his views over the matter at hand then he will be nothing more than an enemy. I wish I could offer more help than this Thatch, but I'm afraid I don't have the entire picture to work off of. How many people are enslaved there? How many guards does he have? Any tracking hounds? I need you to collect as much information as you can. And don't worry about leaked information, I will be sending Ember, our most reliable falcon to run this message. Everything will be fine Thatch, trust in your family._

_With love,_

_Marco Newgate_

* * *

Thatch sighed as he fed Marco's prized falcon his own creation of avian cuisine. The letter clearly stated that there would be no help coming from the Newgate Coven any time soon, not when they were engaged in their own battle.

So that meant that Thatch was alone in his own battle at the remote Castle.

He looked away from the letter and towards the bed in his room where the young woman slept.

Shame and guilt washed over Thatch again until he could no longer bear looking at her. Marco had told him not to blame himself and yet here he was, taking all the burden onto his shoulders because ultimately it was his responsibility to bear.

Thatch couldn't explain it really, the attachment he had developed for this fragile human. He tried to explain it, even now as he wrote Marco back.

_Hey Marc,_

_Again with all the formal banter eh? And where are your "yoi"s when you write? I insert them here and there to make your letter more authentic and it brings a small sense of nostalgia when I do. But that aside, we can't let this situation keep going in like this._

_The person I promised I would rescue is heavily wounded...and it was my fault. Now before you tell me that it isn't my fault, I'm going to tell you that is_ is. _I was having yet another hash out with dear old Count and this girl walks in bearing tea. Everything was going okay and then suddenly it wasn't, the tea overran and spilled onto my lap which is no big deal. But the Count took it as insubordination and meant to reprimand the poor girl. So I naturally stepped in. Maybe that was my mistake Marco? But what was I to do? Watch as the Count beat her for some spilled water? I just couldn't sit back and let him do that, so I stopped him and the look he gave me was chilling. It promised something unspeakable and yet I did not heed the warning._

_After she was dismissed we exchanged shouts and insults, until he stuck me._

Thatch set the quill back down and huffed as he touched the tender spot on his head. The old Count sure had a strong arm even for his age. It was nothing that Thatch could shake off though. And truly Thatch was not surprised about the physical outburst, with the Count it was surprising that he had lasted this long without any physical confrontation.

_I should have seen it coming to tell you the truth and really after three months of living with me, it was certainly about time don't you think? But, sadly the tale doesn't end there Marco. I wasn't enough to sate his need for violence, I don't think anyone will ever be capable of that, but he dismissed me then and sent me away. Of course I complied not knowing just how he would lash out next._

_I should have searched for her Marco. The tea servant. Instead I just receded into the background and did nothing._

_It always smells like blood here, have I ever told you that? It reeks of it now. I swear every crevice must be coated in the sickly sweet fluid. There's also a thick layer of fear in the air it's almost suffocating when the Count goes off in a bout of rage._

_I will carry that mistake with me for the rest of my life. The screams will forever haunt me and every snap of that lash will follow me until the end of my days. She's broken in a way that I fear she can no longer be whole and as I heard those cries of pain, I wondered why. Even now as she rests not even 10 feet away from me I wonder why she keeps fighting. What does she fight for Marco?_

_Does she have someone out there waiting for her? Or does fear drive her, does she believe that the Count will find her even in death? Countless times I have asked these same questions, and how I long to know the answer to them._

_Listen to me Marc, rambling on._

_I was too late to save her from him. By the time I reached the door it was too late, he was there and his guards were flanking the door. I was seconds away from bashing in their indifferent looks to the horrors that were happening just beyond the door, but I didn't. It wasn't out of diplomatic reasoning. Nor was it out of fear for the Count. Rather it was fear for her._

_I would have gone into that Hell for her had I not known she would only be pulled back for a worse fate. I don't know what that fate is, but I can assure you neither she nor I want to find out. And that was why I stayed back while grief and guilt consumed me, to give her a fighting chance by dooming her to her current fate. I tried to redeem myself by taking her after he was done, but I'm afraid no one can undo the damage. I patched her up and she rests there, afraid and unwilling to trust me. How can I ask her to though when I might as well have whipped her myself?_

_You told me to wait for you, brother, but the truth of the matter is I can't. How much longer can these people endure this Hell before they are slaughtered? I need to do something but I don't know what._

_Please lend me your strength, and ask the same of Oyaji and the rest of the family._

_Thatch Newgate_

Thatch set the quill down near the inkwell and shut his gaze. He meant it when he said that he needed to find a way to help these people, but he was also at a loss as to _how_ he could do it. Smuggling one or two humans would be a cinch, he could get the harp player out and maybe another few before anyone knew what was going on. But then Thatch wouldn't save the rest and leaving them in this castle left a bad taste in his mouth. He knew he couldn't abandon the rest of them.

Thatch exhaled a breath, something he only did when he was exasperated since it was a known fact that vampires did not need to breathe air. And while the turned vampires could claim the action to be an old habit, born vampires like him could not.

The letter was rolled and sealed with wax before Thatch stamped his seal on it and gently slid it onto the small carrier bag Ember was harnessed with. He firmly latched the pouch closed and patted the small birds head.

"It is time for us to part ways Ember my dear, I wish you a safe journey. I'll be back home to feed you more of that soon okay?" Thatch cooed to the bird and lead her to the window after she had perched on his arm.

The falcon of course said nothing as she looked at Thatch and then out to the open window before she spread her wings and flew into the night, leaving Thatch alone with the harpist once more.

"If I could give you that freedom I would be a happy man." Thatch murmured as he closed the window to keep the warm air inside for her sake, he after all did not feel the cold as she did.

* * *

Dreams were a rare thing for Izo to experience. Darkness and nightmares had long been her most devoted companions when she was asleep, but the ambiance she was surrounded by provided enough comfort for her to find herself in a nearly forgotten land.

Izo stood under the shade of a tree, the light of the sun peeking through the leaves and branches of the large canopy above her, kissing her skin wherever it touched. Izo felt disoriented as she stood there, waiting for the sky to turn a deep shade of red, or the sun to black out, or the ground under her to cave in and swallow her whole.

None of those things happened.

The world around Izo was peaceful and for once inviting. A gentle breeze rolled over the grass and ruffled the leaves above her before it sent her hair dancing along with it.

"You can leave here if you want." Those words returned to Izo and she spun to where Thatch was leaning nonchalantly against the tree, a smile on his lips.

"Can I?" The words were small and timid but so full of hope as she asked.

"Would you like that?" he asked her, repeating the same phrase he had so long ago.

Izo was afraid, even in this world where the sun shone so brightly and where no obvious threats were surrounding her, she was still hesitant. "Am I allowed to?"

"Do you want to?" Thatch countered.

Izo said nothing for a long stretch of time, what was the right answer here? What was she to say to him. "I can't."

"Says who?"

"You know who, the Count–"

"You do not have to worry about him." Thatch cut her off and stepped away from the tree. "Don't be afraid of him, you no longer have to because you aren't alone anymore."

"Why?" Izo asked, tears beginning to blur her vision of the foreigner. "Why do you go to such lengths for me? I don't even know you! You are one of _them!_ So why?"

Thatch simply smiled and closed the gap between them, his lips moved but Izo couldn't hear a single word that he said. His reasoning was stolen by the breeze and not meant for her to hear.

"Tell me why!" Izo asked her questions numerous times until Thatch himself was taken by the wind around her.

The moment Izo felt the warmth surrounding her she knew that her recollections of the previous night were not a pain fueled fantasy, or the fabrications of her damaged mind. They had in fact happened.

She had disrespected the Count and had been reprimanded for it, and now…

Izo pushed herself off of the bed gingerly, ever mindful of her numerous wounds and wincing every time she aggravated them.

"Oh you're up!" Izo heard Thatch before he rushed to her side. "Are you sure you should be moving, hold on let me help you."

If Izo's body wasn't thrumming with aches and pains she would have struggled under his touch, but instead she let Thatch move her until she was propped up on the bed, eyes cast towards the blood stained sheets.

"Sleep well?" Thatch tried and after a minute of silence he sighed. "I figured I would give it a shot, don't worry about the mess I found out long ago that vinegar is highly effective against most stains and it's actually really great when dealing with hair issues, Use apple cider vinegar in your hair and you will see that your hair gets much more volume and shine, and those split ends? Well you can kiss them goodbye."

"Not into that huh?" Thatch tried and Izo could hear the disappointment in his voice.

The silence returned to the room and when he spoke again Izo heard the sincerity in his voice, "I'm sorry. I really am. I was unable to help you last night, but never again will you ever be alone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Izo end up taking Thatch's offer to help? Is she finally ready to trust, or is Izo even more fearful of him due to her recent encounter with the Count?
> 
> Let me know what you think will happen! 
> 
> Oh and for those of you who haven't read Red Moon, the story that is set after this timeline, a Vampire's Inclination* is like their own little gift. Thatch has a storyteller's inclination he is able to project his tales vividly into your head and Marco is able to solve puzzles and troubling situations.
> 
> Thank you and see you next time!~


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